Date: Thu, 04 Jan 2001 07:59:13 -0500
From: Stuart James
Subject: Boot Slavery (auth, ws)
John saw the boots at the end of the corridor, over 50
metres away. He could always identify a guy wearing
boots. He was not sure why. As long as he could
remember, even as a small child, his eyes were somehow
drawn to booted feet. It had been the greatest
pleasure and the greatest misery in his life. But then
sex was like that. And John had realised long ago that
boots, and the men who wore them, were the primary
object of his sexual cravings.
Even at such a distance he recognised them as engineer
boots. But they were somehow rather different. As
every step brought them nearer he saw that it was the
soles that made them special. They had thicker soles
than any others he had seen. His attention turned for
a moment to the guy wearing the boots. He was also
unusual. In his boots he was taller than John who was
himself quite tall. Perhaps gaining a little extra
height was why he chose such thick-soled boots. While
the fashion was for longer hair with gels and lotions
to keep it just so, his hair was so short that he
almost seemed to have a shaved head. And he was
wearing a black suit with the boots, in a company
where even a tie was considered `dressing up'. He was
a rebel from the top of his head to the soles of his
booted feet. The whole attitude of his body, typified
by the way he walked, displayed the arrogance needed
to wear black engineer boots with a suit, and to not
care what anyone thought. John, who owned many pairs
of engineer boots, would never dare to wear them to
work. The cowboy boots he usually wore, such as the
black harness boots he had pulled on that morning
caused him to blush if anyone commented on them. John
lacked the confidence to be a rebel in public,
although dressed in leather and boots in front of his
bedroom mirror he could sometimes see the arrogant
look that this guy wore quite naturally, every day.
The booted guy's dark eyes were hard and aggressive.
Perhaps it was that that forced John to look down to
the floor. More likely was the need to see those
delicious boots as they came ever closer. In the
moments it took them to pass he saw the shiny round
toes standing a little higher than the rest of the
foot. He knew that they must have steel toecaps under
the rich black leather. He saw that the heels were
thicker and a little taller than most engineer boots.
But as a connoisseur of such things he knew that
bigger heels were needed to keep the boot in
proportion to the thick soles. He saw the telltale
buckle and strap across the instep that confirmed that
they were indeed engineer boots. The strap turned
upwards where it left the buckle. Even the boots had
an arrogance of their own. All this he saw and
remembered in the moments that it took them to pass in
the corridor.
John did not look back once the boots had passed. That
might be noticed, and John did not want anyone to
guess what was going on in his head. He was sure he
would see the boots again. As he took his coffee back
to his office he went through the catalogue of boots
in his mind making doubly sure that he had never seen
such boots before. John visited all the shoe shops
regularly to enjoy examining and touching all the
boots. He got a thrill from them all. Engineers,
cowboy boots, army boots. They all gave him a tingle
that started in his stomach and worked up over his
whole body. He was sure he had never seen boots like
those before. They were either a new line, in which
case he must seek them out, or they had been bought in
another town, perhaps even another country.
John could not be certain what the rest of the boots
that disappeared into the black suit trousers would
look like. In his mind he pictured the boots with
various heights of shaft. He was sure that they would
be high boots. Short engineer boots with those thick
soles would not look right. Whoever had designed such
a perfect pair of boots would not have made a mistake
like that. But how high would they be? Calf high? Knee
high? He would need to find out. He had seen the strap
over the instep. Would they have a strap at the top?
Most did. If they did would there be one or two
straps? He decided on two as it seemed right and
because it made his stomach tingle some more.
Later that morning he was walking back to his office
with his second cup of coffee and he knew the boots
were behind him. He was not sure how he knew, but he
was certain. It might have been the sound. All boots,
he had learnt, made their own distinctive sound as
they hit the ground. It might have been the rhythm of
the strides. He had heard the boots once before. That
was probably enough for someone like him to instantly
recognise the rhythm and sound and to get an instant
picture in his mind of the boots and of the guy in
them. He had five senses and liked to enjoy boots with
as many of those senses as he could.
He stopped at the printer and picked out the sheet
that was coming out of the slot. It was not his, but
the owner could always print it again. But stopping at
the printer gave enough time for the boots to pass him
so that he could follow them down the corridor. He
looked carefully at the guy's legs and just below the
knee he could see the tops of the boots showing
themselves through the trousers as they moved the
material with each stride. He smiled to himself in
satisfaction as his stomach made its usual
summersault. He looked at the deep tread on the thick
soles. They were hardly worn so they must be fairly
new boots. The picture was nearly complete. As he went
into his office the guy turned round and grinned at
him. But the smile was on the face. The eyes remained
hard and cold and a little frightening.
Over the next few weeks, John saw the boots over and
over again. He made sure that he did. He got to know
the guy's habits so that he could be in the right
place or going in the right direction to see them. The
guy never spoke and John was far too shy to start a
conversation himself. But the cold hard eyes looked
right into him as their eyes met.
John expected this infatuation to pass. He was too
honest not to recognise his desire for what it was. It
was infatuation over a pair of boots, and over a guy
in a pair of boots, neither of which he could ever
have. It had happened many times before and usually
followed a pattern of slowly waning desire. John was
comfortable that it should be so. Sometimes his
attention would pass to another pair of boots. Perhaps
a guy in cowboy boots or perhaps a glimpse of a
dispatch rider in black leather with buckled biker
boots up to his knees. Then the old infatuation would
be largely forgotten, and replaced by a new one. If
the infatuation lasted, John might seek out a pair of
the boots for himself. He would buy them and wear them
and use them, and somehow that always dimmed the
desire. But not in this case. He tried all the shops
he knew, but never saw a pair of engineer boots that
exactly matched the ones he longed for. And though he
saw other boots walking around, the thick-soled shiny
engineers still held his attention. So the weeks went
by. John was not unhappy. He was surprised that he was
still fascinated by these boots. But they gave him
pleasure. So he was not unhappy.
One day John went to collect a document from the
printer. The booted guy was there opening a new box of
paper. He was crouched down and the bend of his knees
had made his trousers ride up and meant that John
could see more of the boots than he ever had before.
He could see all of the strap over the instep and all
of the ankle. He could see all of the heel. He could
make out the metal reinforcements around the ankle and
the imprint of the makers' name. The tingle spread
quickly over his body. The guy looked up and smiled.
It was a kindly smile. John recognised it as the sort
of smile that someone gives a dog or a child. It was a
smile that you give to something or someone that is
precious to you, but to something or someone that you
know you are superior to. It was the right sort of
smile for him to give John. The guy spoke. Just 10
words, and then he got up and walked away down the
corridor with John following every footstep until he
turned the corner and was out of sight. He said "I am
going for a drink after work. Be there."
John knew that he should not go. If he were ever
challenged as to why he did not go he could say he did
not know which bar had been meant. But he did know. It
would be the bar in the shops below the office. John
knew that if he went it could well cause problems and
terrible embarrassment at work. When you have a secret
like John, it is always foolish to let anyone at work
get close to the real you. John knew that he should
not go. But he also knew that he would go. He knew
that he had to go.
At a little after five John walked into the bar. The
guy was sitting, with his back to the door, at a table
against the far wall. There was a beer in front of him
and another in front of the seat opposite. He had also
known that John would go. John sat down. As he sat
down the guy said "Don't say anything. I will talk. I
collect people and I have decided to collect you. You
are my property and the fact you are here means that
you know it." The guy looked deep into his eyes and
John realised that he spoke the truth. He did know it.
"I enjoy collecting people, and then I enjoy making
them do things and doing things to them they would not
choose to do or have done to them. And then I make
them enjoy what I make them do and what I do to them.
Since I first saw you I have been observing you and
deciding whether I really wanted to collect you. When
I had decided that I did, I had to make my plans for
you. I have great plans for you and when I have
finished you will not recognise yourself. But you will
eventually come to like it. I am very good at what I
do. I am the best."
He stopped talking and John wondered whether he was
expected to say something. He took a breath to speak
but the guy held up a hand to stop him. Still keeping
John's eyes locked in his, he said "I will answer the
two questions that are in your mind. Firstly, no I
will not tell you what my plans are. You will find out
when I am ready. Secondly you want to know whether it
will involve sex. My answer is the same as to the
first question. It is a matter for me." John began to
speak. He only got out one word -- `but'. The guy
stopped him. "Do not begin sentences with the word
`but'. It implies that you are going to argue with my
decisions. You are my property now. You must
understand that. You must also understand that this is
not some scene when you call me `master' and I beat
you when you pretend to misbehave. This is real. I may
hurt you, but I will hurt you because I want to, not
as part of an act. You will accept what I say and do
as I tell you because you have no choice. Now first
thing this morning I put a card on the notice board
advertising a room for rent in my house. You will move
in on Saturday."
Almost because he had been told not to, John wanted to
start the next sentence with `but'. He resisted.
Instead he said "You did that this morning? We had
never spoken until this afternoon." The only reply the
guy gave was "I told you I am very good." John felt
confused. He said "What rent do I pay?" As the words
came out he realised that it was a stupid question.
The guy smiled again. "Money is no longer important to
you. You will give me all your salary. I will save
part of it and the rest I will keep. I will give you
what little money you may need. But as I will choose
everything and pay for everything, you need not worry
about money." He then laughed out loud. "You probably
don't even know what my name is. My name is Brian,
which is a name I detest. My close friends call me
`Skin' for reasons that really do not matter. You will
call me Skin. I know your name is John. I will call
you Jo. You will not let anyone else address you as
`Jo'." Little more was said between them as they drank
their beers.
By Saturday Jo had packed all his belongings into
cases and boxes and bags and was waiting for Skin to
arrive. He came in a small van and helped Jo transport
his things to his new home. They arrived at what was a
large old house in a street of similar buildings. Skin
helped carry the cases and boxes and bags upstairs and
took them and Jo into a large bedroom that was
brightly decorated with a good selection of modern
furniture. The bed was a double bed, but Skin told him
that his own room was opposite. When all the bags were
upstairs, Skin asked Jo which bags his clothes were
in. Jo pointed to two suitcases. Skin opened the first
and began taking items out which he put in a black
dustbin liner. He did the same with the second case
but removed rather more. Jo said "but you have taken
all my underwear." Skin said quietly as if explaining
to a child "Firstly, I have told you about using
`but'. Secondly, it is not `my underwear'. You do not
own anything anymore. In future you will wear my pants
and socks. I will wear them one day and you will wear
them the next. My sweat and my smells will become part
of you." He looked at Jo for a few moments to make
sure he had been understood. Then he continued "Jo,
are these all your clothes? There are no shoes." Jo
had thinned out his vast collection of boots. It was a
process he found very painful as he hated parting with
boots which all had memories and associations. But he
had still brought 20 of his favourite pairs. He had
hoped Skin would not notice them. He now realised that
this was rather foolish. He would not be allowed to
own secrets anymore. He owned nothing.
Jo pointed to the 3 sacks that he had placed behind
him against the wall. He flushed as Skin got out pair
of boots after pair of boots. There were his very high
heeled and pointed cowboy boots with the fancy
stitching. There was a similar pair in black with
chains around the ankles. There were his Alpenstar
motorbike boots with the buckles up the leg. There
were his black 20-hole rangers with the steel toe-caps
and a matching pair in brown. As Skin slowly removed
each pair, he looked at the boots and then at Jo. Then
he got out the next pair and the next. From the final
bag he got out the three pairs of leather trousers,
one with thong ties down the sides, the black leather
chaps, the black leather T-shirt and the two black
leather biker jackets. When he had finished examining
them, Skin put them all back in the bags and put the
bags by the door with the other things he obviously
intended to take away. Jo knew that it would not be
his decision, but he knew he needed boots. He did not
want that taken away from him. He said "Am I not going
to be allowed to wear the boots again?" He carefully
avoided saying `my boots'. Skin looked at the floor as
if searching for an answer. "I did not expect this" he
said. "But it gives me some more ideas. Part of my
ownership of you means that in future I will decide
exactly what you wear. I think you already know that.
But I do not think even I could break your obvious
passion for boots. Whatever I tell you to wear will
therefore always include boots. You will never wear
anything else. Never. No shoes. No trainers. Always
Boots." He closed the door and left Jo alone.
Over the rest of that first day the two got to know
each other. Jo found that Skin knew a lot about a lot
of subjects and their conversations ranged widely. Jo
quickly became very easy in Skin's company. Skin did
not mind if Jo argued and disagreed with him as they
discussed music or politics or whatever. Skin seemed
to enjoy the jousting, particularly as his arguments,
always forcibly put, usually won. But Jo knew that
there were areas where Skin's decision was final and
on those he was careful not to question or to comment
unless specifically instructed to do so. He just
accepted.
Jo had wondered whether Skin would treat him as some
sort of menial labour. But Skin had said that this was
not a scene and they did all the chores together.
After a surprisingly good meal -- Skin was obviously a
good cook -- and a few beers they went to bed at around
midnight. Skin wished Jo a good night and they went to
their separate rooms. Jo slept soundly.
He was woken around 8 o'clock by Skin, who was fully
dressed in jeans and T-shirt. He had never seen his
bare arms before and was somehow surprised and then
not surprised to see that he had two large tattoos on
his forearms. One was a brightly coloured eagle with
its claws holding a large snake that curled around his
arm. The other was a traditional design of roses and
other flowers, with a scroll in the centre with the
word `Skin' in fancy writing. Both covered his entire
forearm. Skin saw that Jo was looking at the tattoos.
He said "I had these done when I was 16, and yes
having my skin inked was one of the reasons I was
nicknamed `Skin'. Skin was carrying some clothes,
which he put on the bed. He left telling Jo that
breakfast would be in half an hour. Jo took a shower,
cleaned his teeth and shaved and then went back to his
room. He picked up the underpants and looked inside.
He could see they had been worn by some tell tale
yellow stains around the crotch, but they were not
badly soiled. He put them on, followed by the socks
and the jeans which, he noticed, were not a pair that
he had brought with him. He picked up the white T-
shirt and smelled it under the armpits. It had clearly
been worn before, but it smelt of Skin's odour and he
felt good as he put it on.
The rest of the morning and part of the afternoon was
spent doing everyday things. They went shopping to the
supermarket. Skin had given Jo a pair of brown square
toe harness boots to wear, and had put on a similar
pair in black himself. Jo had only bought them a few
weeks before when he had got two pairs for the price
of one in a sale. So he had chosen one in each colour.
He particularly liked the very square toes and the
good shaped heels and the thick straps joining at the
metal rings at the ankles. He felt very pleased that
they were wearing nearly identical boots. To anyone
who might look it said that they were together. Jo
realised that in Skin's company he worried rather less
about what other people might think of him. While they
were out he did not try to hide his looks at the boots
Skin was wearing. Skin did not say anything but Jo
knew that he did not mind. He would have told him not
to look if he wanted Jo to act differently. When they
stopped at a pub for a drink on the way home from the
supermarket, Skin sat with his legs crossed so that Jo
got a good view as they chatted. He played with the
rings at the ankles and with the heels and caused the
tingle to spread from Jo's stomach.
Once they had got home and put the shopping away Skin
said "I have something else for you to wear." He went
to a drawer and got out a length of metal chain with
thick links and a dull shine. He handed it to Jo who
found that it was much heavier than he expected. Skin
explained that it was special steel that was very
strong and difficult to cut with anything but a laser.
Jo knew what it was for and was about to put it about
his neck when he realised that it had no catch on it.
He looked at Skin a little puzzled. Skin told him that
it had to be welded together. He left it unsaid that
once it was on it was not easily going to come off. It
was clearly too short to take off over his head. He
followed Skin to the shed in the garden where the
chain was fastened around his neck. Skin worked at the
back of his head so he was not sure how he fastened
it. He could not hear a blowtorch. Maybe he used a
laser. But in this, as in so much else, Skin proved to
be an expert and the chain never felt more than warm.
When it was finished Skin gave him a mirror. He could
not see any join. It seemed to be a single piece of
chain. Skin said " I like it. It looks good." Jo
realised that this was a time when his opinion was not
needed, although if he had been asked he would have
had to have said that he liked it too. Skin pointed
out that each link had a small inscription -- `Property
of Skin'.
The next day was Monday and the first work day of the
new week. Skin again brought Jo his clothes. The pants
and socks were the ones Skin had worn the previous
day. They felt good as Jo put them on. The dark blue
shirt was clean although the white T-shirt he was to
wear underneath was the one Skin had worn the day
before. He had chosen a pair of black jeans for Jo to
wear. Last week Jo, when he was only John, had always
worn formal trousers with a shirt. Skin seemed to have
decided that he was to be more casual. Skin himself
wore his usual black suit. Jo noticed that he was
wearing the (not `his') black pointed cowboy boots
with the high underslung heels. He had removed the
chains around the ankles, which somehow seemed to make
them even showier. Perhaps that was just because it
was Skin that was wearing them. Jo knew he would never
have the courage to wear boots like those to work,
even though he had longed to do so. As he had that
thought he realised that the correct expression was
`would never have worn'. Perhaps tomorrow Skin would
decide that he would wear them to work. And then he
would wear them, as he would have no choice.
Skin went back to his own room and returned holding
the black engineer boots that had been the object of
his passion. He handed them to Jo saying "I think you
had better wear these." Jo looked at them carefully
and felt their weight. They were heavy. He saw at once
that they had the two straps as the top fastening as
he so much liked and had expected. The smile he gave
Skin filled his whole face and Skin gave him a small
grin in response. He pulled each boot on carefully
enjoying the sensation of his foot going down the long
shaft and then pulling hard to get his heel and foot
over the ankle and to the bottom. He mentally felt his
legs. He felt the tops of the boots near his knees and
the thick leather all the way up his legs. He flexed
his toes and could feel the unyielding steel toe-caps.
The boots were a little small for him. His feet felt
like prisoners of Skin's boots, as he was a prisoner
of Skin. He carefully arranged the legs of his jeans
over the boots and stood up and took a few steps. He
liked the feeling of weight on his feet. As always
happened when he tried on new boots, he got a massive
erection. More than once this had caused him
embarrassment in shops, although it had never stopped
him going back. Skin saw the outline of his solid cock
through the jeans. He came over and felt the swelling
through the material. It was the first sexual contact
of any kind that they had had. He said "You will have
to wait until tonight to relieve that. You are not to
touch it today. In future you may only touch your cock
for pissing and when I tell you."
They left for work. Jo was quite certain that everyone
would notice the boots he was wearing. Some people
commented favourably on his more casual clothes. Some
people always have to give you their opinion even
though you might not want it. When everyone from his
group was gathered at the coffee point to get another
cup, someone pointed to Jo's feet and said loudly that
he was wearing Brain's boots. The confusion in the
name perhaps saved him from blushing too deeply. A
woman said, as if in explanation, that all men were
untidy so it was not surprising that Jo could not find
his own things. People seemed to accept that
meaningless comment as great wisdom and nothing more
was said then or in the future about him wearing
clothes that Skin had been seen wearing.
Jo did not get much work done that day as he spent so
much time concentrating on the boots he was wearing.
He could not take his mind off his desire to jack off.
But he had been told he could not. A couple of times
that day he saw Skin in the corridor wearing the black
pointed cowboy boots. The high heels caused him no
problem and the way in which he walked in those boots
was quite awesome. Like everything else Skin wore, the
boots became a natural part of him. It was just
another facet of the arrogance that Skin always
displayed and that had rather frightened Jo when he
first saw him. Now he felt pleased that such a man had
decided to own him.
When they got home Skin told Jo to go upstairs and
take off all his clothes except his boots and to wait
for him. When he arrived about 5 minutes later Jo was
standing booted in front of the mirror with a half
erect penis. The thought of being watched doing
something so intimate made him nervous. Skin closed
the door and leant against it. Jo noticed that Skin
had removed his boots. There was only one pair to
which he was to give his attention. Skin simply said
"Go on." Jo took some long slow strokes of his cock.
The reflected beauty of the boots in the full-length
mirror and the feel of them from the inside soon
bought his cock to full attention. Skin interrupted
his thoughts and told him to take his time. He
realised that he had started to rush the process to
try to get it over with as quickly as possible. Even
in his excitement he still felt rather embarrassed. No
one had ever seen this very private act before. With
other men he had had sex with, even boot sex, it had
been a mutual thing, not a spectator sport. He slowed
down and massaged the full length of his cock slowly.
He started pulling at his balls and felt the seed
rising in him. His body went rigid with his toes
pushed up hard against the steel toe-caps. In 5 long
thrusts he shot spunk over the mirror which started to
run down to the floor. He let some spunk drip from his
cock onto each boot. They had been christened.
Before his breathing had come back to normal Skin had
told him to clean up and had left to go down stairs to
prepare their meal. Jo did not know what Skin had
thought about what he had watched. He could see no
obvious sign in his trousers of excitement. For a
moment he even wondered if he had been disgusted at
watching a man getting such intense pleasure from a
pair of boots. In any event Jo had been told that he
could only jack off when Skin let him, and he felt
sure that he would never again be allowed to do it
alone.
The next day and the one following Skin gave Jo the
engineer boots to wear to work and each night he was
told to relieve himself while Skin watched. Jo had
always liked to feel the boots over his body and
around his genitals as well as on his feet. So on the
third day when Skin came into the room to watch Jo
jack off, he found him with one boot gripped tightly
between his thighs with the heel pointing forwards and
his balls resting on the sole just in front of the
heel. Jo liked to have a boot in that position. He
liked the feel as his balls hit against the heel as he
stroked his cock. The other boot he held in his left
hand. As he slowly jacked off he alternately looked at
the boot, tasted its leather and its soles and rubbed
it over his chest and face. When he felt himself going
rigid, he held the boot in front of him so that the
spunk fell on the deeply patterned thick soles. He no
longer felt any shame about Skin seeing his enjoyment
of the boots. Skin had a right to know everything, and
anything he did not like he would change. He left the
spunk on the sole of the boot to dry.
Later that evening while they were watching
television, Jo got up. Skin asked him where he was
going. "I need a piss. I won't be long" he replied.
Skin got up and followed him upstairs and into the
large bathroom and stood behind him. He caught hold of
Jo's right arm as he went to undo his jeans and
snapped a handcuff around the wrist. He pulled the
other arm to join it so that Jo's hands were locked
behind his back. Skin then undid Jo's jeans and pulled
them and his underpants to his knees. He took hold of
Jo's cock and pointing it at the bowl said "Go on then
piss." Skin did not seem surprised that Jo could not
get started, or that the cock was stiffening between
his fingers. "Come on I thought you wanted to piss" he
said mockingly. Eventually Jo began to piss although
he had to strain and he found it painful. When he
finished, Skin carefully shock any excess off his
cock, pulled up his pants and trousers and did them
up. It came as no surprise to Jo when Skin said "That
is how it will be from now on. When we are here alone
you may only go to the toilet when I let you. When we
come in here you will stand before the bowl with your
hands behind your back and I will handcuff them. If
you need to go in the night you will knock on my door
and wait for me in the bathroom." Over the next couple
of days Jo got used to the ritual and even looked
forward to having his most private part held by Skin.
It was a little harder for him to bend over while Skin
wiped his bottom and then washed it clean in the
bidet. But he even accepted that and grew to like it
too.
He realised now that Skin truly did have a plan and
that little by little he would make the changes that
Jo would never have made himself. As he settled to
sleep that night he felt sure that he would like the
result of Skin's plans.
The next change came the following Saturday and took
Jo completely by surprise. While Skin kept his dark
hair very very short, Jo wore his dark blond hair
fairly long. It made him look unthreatening and the
sort of guy any mother would be happy to see their
daughter with. In short it made him unnoticeable among
so many similar guys. That day Skin took Jo to the
hairdressers and sat in the chair to have the long
half-inch strands cut back to a quarter of an inch. Jo
was not surprised that Skin had said nothing about
going to the hairdressers before they left home. He
rarely told him where they were going. Such decisions
were his. Skin obviously knew the barber well as they
chatted about old times. Jo gathered they had been to
school together and the barber was the first person he
had heard call him `Skin'. As the protective cape was
removed from around his shoulders, Skin got up, and
indicated that it was Jo's turn. As he sat down he
felt a dread about what was about to happen. Yet
inside he knew such choices were no longer his to
make. The hairdresser continued talking to Skin as the
electric clippers cut away all the dark blond hair. Jo
shut his eyes not wanting to watch what was happening.
When he opened them another face looked back at him.
His hair was now as short as Skins and he did not like
what he saw. He said nothing as they left. As they
walked back to the house Skin, who could not have
failed to notice that Jo was not happy said "The fact
you don't like it does not matter. It is what I want.
Get used to it."
They walked home in silence, although slowly Jo
realised that there was nothing to be gained by being
upset. Before he moved in with Skin he had convinced
himself that he could always leave if things worked
out badly. But in reality it had become too late to
draw back as soon as he decided to go for that first
drink. He lived in Skin's home. He worked in the same
firm as Skin. Skin controlled his money. But even
without all those trivial things, Skin had controlled
him from the very first day he had seen him. The
haircut was just another strand that bound them
closer.
Jo went up to his room to brush away the few long
hairs that had escaped onto his clothes. As he looked
at himself in the mirror, still not liking what he
saw, Skin walked in carrying a brown paper carrier
bag. He said brightly "I have a present for you that
may cheer you up. Or it may not. But that really
doesn't matter, it will make me happy." With that he
laughed loudly although his eyes remained cold. Jo
opened the bag and took out a pair of white jeans. It
was obvious that he was expected to put them on and so
he took off his blue jeans and started to pull them
on. Jo wondered whether he would be able to get them
on, as they were so tight. When he pulled them up he
realised they were cut very short. He looked at Skin
and when he saw that Skin was now holding the black
20-hole rangers that he had brought to the house with
him, but now threaded with white laces, his mouth
dropped. He now realised the full extent of the next
part of Skins plan. He was going to be a skinhead. Jo
did up the jeans and took the boots. The boots
certainly cheered him up. The tingle in his stomach
told him that. He had not seen them since Skin had
taken them away. They had always been a favourite
pair, which is why he chose to bring them with him.
When he lived alone, he loved to lace them up tightly
and wearing nothing else, he would slowly enjoy the
look and feel of the boots on his feet. He again
enjoyed the sensation of pulling them on and then
carefully lacing them up making a perfect ladder of
the white laces and making sure that the two sides of
the boot met evenly. He carefully rolled up the legs
of the new jeans so that they covered the boots only
down to the second pair of holes. He put on the red
Fred Perry polo shirt that Skin held out. Then he
stood up and looked at the image in the mirror. What
he saw was an image he had often dreamt about. A big
booted skinhead that he found so attractive. But this
was not a dream, the person was him, and yet it looked
like someone else. Not for the first or last time, he
was not sure what to think.
He hoped that they would stay at home. Jo could not go
out looking like this. People would laugh at him. But
Skin made it clear that they were going out, and so
they did. Jo felt so self-conscious that it crossed
his mind that perhaps Skin wanted to humiliate him.
Perhaps that was what he had meant when he said he
might hurt him. Surely he could not want to show him
off.
The haircut, the skin-tight trousers and most of all
the boots made Jo feel very strange as he walked at
Skins side down the street. The reactions he got from
people in the street, from neighbours and people who
knew him, was very different from any he had got
before. Some people, mainly women, seemed to shy away
from him. He understood why. He had always found the
big boots fully visible beneath the turned up skin-
tight trousers very threatening when worn by others.
Now he was the one who was seen as the threat. Other
people looked at him with some curiosity and some even
with admiration. Three skinheads on the other side of
the road greeted him with an 'Oi Mate'. He had their
approval. He must look the part. By the time they got
to the pub Jo felt really good about the
transformation in the way he looked. He had even tried
to copy the swagger that he had seen that skinheads
adopt when wearing thick-soled ranger boots, which
they always managed to wear as if they were part of
their body. As they sat down, Skin said "You look a
bit happier. You should do, you look great."
The next day, Sunday, Skin told Jo to wear the full
skinhead gear again. When he was dressed Jo was
surprised to find that Skin was also dressed in a
similar fashion. With his tattoos he looked absolutely
perfect. But then Skin always did. The sight of Skin
in brown 20-hole rangers made his breathing and his
heart race and his whole body tingle. Once again Skin
made it easy for Jo to admire his boots. At one point,
as they sat enjoying a beer, Skin placed his boot on
Jo's chair between his legs. As they walked home Jo
glanced often at the booted feet which only helped to
make the tightness of his trousers more obvious. He
now thought he understood another reason for the
nickname `Brian' had chosen.
Normally Jo slept soundly through the night, waking up
at most once to answer the call of nature. Even though
he then had to wait for Skin to handcuff him and hold
his penis while he pissed, he was always able to go
straight back to sleep. This night was different. He
woke up at about 5 o'clock with the picture of Skin in
full skinhead gear clearly in his mind. He explored
the image in his mind. His cock was throbbing it was
so hard. Even though he knew he must not, he started
to play with it very gently. And he found he could not
stop, it was so pleasant. Even so he had no intention
of going to climax. But after more than an hour of
slow and delicate touches of his cock with his fingers
and exploring those booted feet with his mind, he knew
he had gone too far. It only took the slightest of
touches on his now ultra sensitive cock for his body
to arch. He managed to catch the spunk in a
handkerchief, so that there was no trace on the
bedclothes.
But if the bed would not give away his secret, his
face clearly did. Skin looked with those hard eyes at
him over the breakfast table. He simply said "Tell
me." Jo told him what had happened. He tried to
explain why, but Skin cut him short. "You did it, even
though you knew you must not." Jo could only nod. He
said "Perhaps you could handcuff me at night..." The
look from Skin made him trail off. Skin sighed as if
at a loss of how to explain something so very simple
to one who was so very stupid. Eventually he said very
sharply "In the first place it would hardly stop you
rubbing yourself against the bed. But more importantly
I make such decisions. You don't." He then sighed
again and said more gently "I know you know that you
must only do as I say. But that is not enough.
Pleasing me has to be the very essence of your being."
Skin said nothing more on the subject. That made it so
much harder. Jo thought it would have been easier if
this were just some scene where he would simply have
been whipped for disobeying. The pleasure he had had
while lying in bed was not worth the terrible pain he
now felt. It was worse than any whipping could ever
have been.
At work everyone commented on Jo's hair. He had
thought hard how to explain it. He had decided to say
that he had lost a bet with a friend about a football
match and the loser had to have his head shaved.
Everyone seemed to accept this, although no one seemed
quite convinced when he said that he actually rather
liked it. They assumed he was trying to make the best
of being a loser. By lunchtime the question had been
asked and the answer given over and over again and the
question of his hair ceased to be a topic worthy of
discussion. Jo was surprised at how easy it had been.
He had never found any courage within himself. He
still did not have any. But Skin made the decisions
and that was all the courage that was needed.
At home that evening Skin said nothing more about
their breakfast discussion. That seemed to be another
dead topic. Jo tried especially hard to show that he
really was trying not to make any mistakes.
Occasionally in the last weeks he would still begin a
sentence with `but' or talk about `my', and Skin
always noticed, although by now a look was enough for
Jo to know his mistake. He felt better in himself that
he got through the evening without once being pulled
up by Skin.
As he was about to get into bed, Skin came in. He was
still fully dressed. Jo noticed the smell at the same
time as he caught site of the thing Skin was carrying.
In his hands he was carrying a pair of trousers in
thick matt rubber. Unlike normal trousers, they had
`feet' so that when he wore them (and he knew that he
was to wear them) they would cover the lower half of
his body. He noticed that at the front there was a
thick rubber tube where clearly his cock was meant to
go. He rightly guessed that it contained a metal tube
that would prevent his hand from getting any contact
with his cock. He took the garment, which Skin had
already dusted with powder. At first, it was difficult
to get on, as the rubber was particularly thick and
proved to be very tight. But once he had got his feet
and legs in, and arranged his cock so that it lay on
the base of the initially cold metal tube, the rest
slipped on easily.
Skin stood there looking at him. As Jo wondered why he
was looking, he realised that he was getting an
erection. While his cock had been soft, the contact
with the metal tube had only been where it rested. As
his erection grew he felt it crawling down the length
of the tube. And then the pain hit him. On any other
part of his body, pain would probably have been the
wrong word. Irritation would have been more
appropriate. But on his delicate cock head he could
feel what seemed like thousands of needles sticking in
him. The sheer look of surprise on Jo's face told Skin
what only Jo could actually feel. "Inside the end of
the tube is stuck a strip of the rough side of
Velcro's fastening. It will not damage you, but you
will find it extremely uncomfortable. You will find it
better not to have an erection. Unless of course I
tell you to. Sleep well." As he left Jo said "What
happens if I want to go to the toilet?" Skin looked
back into the room with a broad grin. "That is the
double beauty of these pants. You will not need to
disturb me again. If you want to piss just piss." As
Skin closed the door Jo realised what that meant. If
he pissed it would just stay inside the pants and soak
him. In the three weeks that he was made to wear the
pants, he only pissed himself once. That was quite
enough to realise that an aching bladder was less
uncomfortable. But in those three weeks he could never
train himself not to wake up with a massive erection.
The only cure for that was to put up with the pain
until it subsided.
The next day when he looked at himself in the mirror,
he recognised something in the face that looked back
at him. While it was not John - he would never look
back at him again -- the person was vaguely familiar.
He wondered what the next part of Skin's plan would
be. He did not have to wait long.
The following Saturday, both dressed as skinheads,
they walked for about a mile to a rather run down
looking house. Skin knocked on the door, which was
answered by a man probably in his 50's with long
greasy hair in a ponytail and a mass of tattoos. He
welcomed Skin as an old friend and they went in. After
Skin and the man, whom he introduced as Dave, finished
chatting Skin turned to Jo and said "Over the next few
weeks you will be coming here a lot. Dave is an expert
piercer and I have decided I want you pierced. Dave
knows what he has to do, but do not ask him about his
instructions. He will not tell you. When you come here
you will take all your clothes off and lie on the
couch. You will not resist anything Dave does." With
that Skin said goodbye to Dave and left. Jo just stood
there, unsure what to do. Eventually Dave, who
outwardly looked rather ferocious but was obviously a
gentle man, told him to take his clothes off and lie
down. He chatted to him trying to reassure him, as Jo
was clearly frightened. Piercing was not something he
had ever thought of having done. The thought of having
needles pushed through him and wearing metal rings
made him shiver. Dave said that the actual piercings
would not hurt much although they would be very sore
afterwards. He said that if ever the rings were
removed from the holes would all heal completely so
there really was no need to worry. But then he added
that Skin had told him to stick the balls to the rings
that they closed so that they could not be easily
removed. He told Jo that today he would only be doing
both nipples. Jo was not sure whether Dave was
breaking his instructions not to tell Jo what was to
happen. But then he realised that only he belonged to
Skin. Dave did not. Within half an hour Jo had a
fairly fat ring through each nipple. Jo was relieved
that there had been very little pain.
When he got home, Skin examined the new piercings and
looked pleased. Strangely that made Jo feel very
happy. That evening Skin instructed Jo to come and sit
at his feet while they watched television. Jo was
eager to oblige as Skin, certainly deliberately, had
not removed the 20-hole ranger boots he had worn that
day. He snaked one boot around Jo and pressed it into
his crotch. It felt good. At the same time he put his
hand down the front of Jo's shirt and started pulling
and twisting the new ring that had been put through
his right nipple. Automatically Jo brought up his hand
to stop him. The pain was so great. Jo was surprised
that Skin let go of the ring and removed his hand and,
unfortunately, also his boot. But Jo quickly found out
why. Skin had unclipped the handcuffs that he
sometimes now kept on his belt. Jo did not resist as
his hands were fastened behind his back. As Skin
replaced his boot and his hand went back down the
front of Jo's shirt Skin said in a very quiet voice
"Do not resist and do not cry out." Jo did not cry
out, although he found it impossible to keep
completely still. But Skins grip never relented as he
pulled and twisted the rings. First the right nipple
and then the left. Very soon Jo could see spots of
blood on his shirt. Looking back Jo could not be sure
when instead of each pull and twist being anticipated
with dread at the pain, he began to wait for it in
anticipation of the pleasurable feeling that went in
waves through his body. He gripped the boot between
his legs hard so that he could push and rub his rock
hard penis against it. The first minutes of agony were
followed by several minutes of sheer pleasure of an
intensity he had not known before. Eventually he came
in his pants. He looked up at Skin who had removed his
hand. Neither said anything, as there was really
nothing to say.
After a few minutes Jo felt that he had recovered
enough and ought to clean up. He asked Skin if he
would undo the handcuffs. Skin said "No, not yet."
Skin got up and told Jo to kneel in front of him. As
he watched, Skin undid his trousers and took down his
jeans and underpants. Although they had now lived
together for several weeks, Jo had only seen Skin
dressed. Jo was mesmerised by the sight that greeted
him. It was not simply the size of Skin's cock,
although it was longer and fatter than most he had
seen before. It was the tattoo of a long snake that
came up from his left leg and curled around his crotch
until it went down the entire shaft of his cock ending
at the head. And through the end of his cock, as if
through the snake's mouth, was a large fat ring. Skin
let Jo admire the view for a few more seconds before
instructing him to open his mouth. He need not have
said that, as Jo's mouth was wide open in admiration
of the sight before him. As Skin pushed his cock into
Jo's mouth he began pissing. He told Jo to swallow it.
If he had had time to think, Jo might have gagged at
the thought. But he did not really have time to think,
so he just drank all the warm liquid that went into
his mouth. When the flow stopped, Jo carefully licked
the end, enjoying the feel of the ring with his
tongue. Skin then removed the snake from his mouth.
Skin took Jo up to the bathroom where he removed the
handcuffs long enough for Jo to strip naked. He then
replaced them and stripped himself. They got into the
shower together. It was the first time they had ever
been naked together. Skin carefully washed Jo in the
stream of hot water before washing himself. It was
strange but after the previous changes Skin had made
to Jo's life or to their relationship he had always
told him that that was how it would be in future. This
time he said nothing, although Jo knew with absolute
certainty that from now on he would have to drink
Skin's piss and that from now on they would shower
together. But while Jo could not avoid getting an
erection, Skin did not get one. And they continued to
sleep in separate rooms.
Over the next weeks Dave continued his piercings. In
what seemed rapid succession he gained a ladder of
eight rings across the centre of his ball sac -- four
one week and four the next. The line was continued
with eight more rings piercing the length of his cock.
It was after these were inserted that Jo stopped
having to wear the rubber trousers at night. Much as
he had hated the smell and feel of the rubber at
first, he had begun to enjoy wearing them and he was
disappointed when Skin did not bring them to him. His
genitals took time to recover from the piercings, and
with rings all the way down his cock, he had to learn
different sensations when Skin instructed him to jack
off.
As each ring went in he anticipated the pain and then
the pleasure that Skin would generate with the new
wounds. The next week he was given a large Prince
Albert ring like the one in the snake's mouth. He
liked that one best of all as it was exactly the same
as the one Skin had. He began to long for Saturday to
come.
When he arrived on his next visit, Dave told him not
to bother to strip and to sit in the chair. Jo
refused. He had been given his orders and he stripped.
But he agreed to sit in the chair when Dave told him
that the next ring was to be through his nose. That
proved to be the most painful piercing so far, and he
was glad when it was done. But Dave had not quite
finished. He told him to stick his tongue out which he
grabbed with a pair of forceps. He did not let go
until a stud was inserted through his tongue. His
tongue quickly swelled up and it was difficult to
talk. He left Dave only aware of the pain and the
seemingly huge piece of metal in his mouth. Dave's
final comment was "Same time next week." Jo wondered
what was left to pierce. Although he was in great
pain, part of him hoped there was more to come.
When he got home, Skin was not there. He returned an
hour or so later. He immediately came over to Jo and
gave him a hard kiss forcing his tongue into Jo's
mouth. It was their first kiss, and even though it was
painful Jo was in no hurry for it to end. Skin
examined the two new piercings and looked well
satisfied.
Jo had never before questioned Skin about his plans
but for some reason he decided to now, even though he
doubted that Skin would answer. "I am to be tattooed
next aren't I?" Skin looked at him for a moment before
quietly saying "Yes. Would you like to see what I have
planned?" Skin did not wait for an answer but went and
started up the computer in the corner. It soon
displayed the image of a naked body that rotated
slowly. Although the body had a picture of Jo's head
attached to it, it clearly was not his body. At the
touch of a button the first image of a tattoo appeared
on the model. It was around the crotch area. It was a
snake like Skins, but there was no tail starting on
his leg. Instead the snake came out of his backside
snaking around his left side and belly until just the
tongue was on his dick.
Skin pressed the button again, and the figure seemed
to wearing boots half way up the calves, but they were
not really boots. They were there to indicate that
above the bootline Jo was to have a lion's head on his
left leg, and a leaping panther on his right. At the
third push of the button Jo saw no change as the model
was sideways on and he was looking at the left side.
As the figure rotated he saw that the right arm was
completely covered in coloured images. The design went
from the hand completely covering the arm and right
shoulder and ended well up the neck. "That is all I
have planned for now, but I may want more later." As
if he knew exactly what was in Jo's mind, Skin said "I
know having a tattoo on your hand and on your neck
will make life difficult at work, but it is what I
want." Jo could only think to say that it was what he
wanted too. But he said nothing. The decision was not
his and his opinion did not matter.
Dave tattooed Jo's legs, and created the snake over
the next three weeks of what were often long sessions.
Jo found the process more painful than being pierced,
but as with all the pain Skin had inflicted on him, he
began to like it and then to look forward to it. Dave
started on Jo's arm at the elbow. As it was a complex
design it was going to be slow work. Skin came to all
the tattooing sessions, and watched the designs
steadily grow.
All the time the question of work worried Jo. He did
not say anything to Skin as he knew that the decision
had been made. But he did not know how he would cope.
Perhaps he should just quit before the tattoo was
obvious to all.
One day at work everyone in the firm got together to
celebrate the owners birthday. Skin started talking
about tattoos and how everyone was having them done
and how good they looked. He said that he was trying
to persuade Jo to have one but that he was far too
much of a coward. Jo could not be sure whether Skin
had somehow set them up, but some of the younger guys
started making fun of him and telling him not to be a
chicken. "It does not hurt" they kept repeating. If
only Jo could tell them what the pain really felt like
to him. Three guys rolled up their sleeves to reveal
tattoos, much to many people's surprise. Jo knew that
Skin was trying to find a way out of the problem,
which he knew loomed large in Jo's mind. Jo therefore
took his cue and said that if ever he had one, he
would want it to be a real statement -- something big
and impressive.
>From then on it became quite easy. Over the next few
days he told people that he had decided that he would
have a tattoo done. Then he told them that he had
found a tattooist who was designing something really
special. As the work progressed he began to show his
colleagues the gradual inking of his arm starting from
the elbow. Everyone seemed interested, although some
people he was sure took an interest only so that they
could be shocked or disgusted. When the tattoo
eventually moved onto his hand and above his collar
there were loud arguments about whether it looked good
or bad, or whether it should be bigger or smaller or
whether he needed the other hand and the other side of
his neck tattooed to keep it in balance. But nobody
complained and he was not sacked. Skin had worked his
magic once again.
It was now six months since he had first seen the
boots and first seen Skin and 4 months since they had
lived together. Yet in that time, although they
showered together, although Skin handled his cock when
he needed to piss, and although Jo had Skin's cock in
his mouth every day to drink his piss, they had never
had sex. Indeed thinking back, Jo had never seen
Skin's cock hard. He began to wonder whether there was
something wrong with Skin. Or whether he himself was
just the disappointment he had always felt he was.
The tattoos had now healed and as he looked at himself
in the mirror he was pleased with the person who
looked back. He liked him. He looked at the steel
collar around his neck. He looked and fingered each of
the rings that pierced his body. He looked at the
tattoos that covered such a large part of his body
with such beautiful designs. They were all as close to
perfection as he could imagine. Big and bold but not
too much. As he got dressed in the black jeans and
yellow shirt together with Skins used underpants,
socks and T-shirt he realised that it was his
birthday. He was not sure whether he had ever told
Skin. When he got into the kitchen Skin was holding a
brightly coloured package. He said "You can only have
this if you can guess what it contains." Jo took the
box, which was about 18 inches square and 8 inches
deep. He felt the weight and shook it. The feel and
the weight and the sound told him that it was a
shoebox. He said out loud "This has got to be a
shoebox, and as I am only allowed to wear boots, it
must contain boots." Skin nodded. Jo wondered what
boots could be in such a small box, but took Skin's
nod as permission to open the present. In the past
months Jo and Skin had talked extensively about boots.
After all it was Jo's favourite subject. Although he
did not remember saying it, he must have told Skin of
his childhood passion for cuban-heeled elastic sided
boots. He had not seen a pair of them for years. He
doubted that they were still made. But there in front
of him was a pair with massive cuban heels and needle
pointed toes. He got one out lovingly and looked at
the black shiny leather and the gusseted elastic
sides. He looked at the leather loop at the back that
you could use to pull them on. Or on which you could
hitch your trousers so that everyone could enjoy the
gorgeous sight. He pulled them on without using the
loop and stood high on the heels looking down at the
sharp pointed toes. He told Skin that it was the best
present he had ever had. And he truly meant it. For
the first time, Skin seemed embarrassed and told him
to hurry up or they would be late for work.
Jo saw the boots at the end of the long corridor 50
metres away. In the last 6 months he had lost none of
his skill in identifying boots at almost any distance.
Even if he had not known it was Skin he would have
recognised the boots as engineer boots, although
slightly different, with thicker soles and higher
heels than most he had ever seen. As the boots came
towards him, he looked into the hard dark eyes, but
did not look away. Perhaps he should have as the eyes
had an aggression he had not seen since the first day.
Skin stopped him and said "I am going for a drink
after work. Be there", before he walked off again. Jo
knew what this meant. Skin had collected him. As he
had promised he had changed him, and also as he had
promised he had made him love the changes. But now it
was over and Skin would find another person to
collect. Jo felt empty.
The rest of the day went miserably. Even the joy he
had felt for the new boots disappeared. At a little
after five Jo walked into the bar. Skin was sitting at
the same table against the far wall. There was a beer
in front of him and another in front of the seat
opposite. They had both known that Jo would obey his
instruction to go. Jo sat down. Unusually Jo spoke
first. "It's over isn't it?" He did not wait for an
answer but continued "I knew it would have to end and
I knew you would only give me what you wanted to give
me but I had hoped for more, you know, for sex." Skin
looked deep into his eyes. "Yes, I have completed what
I promised you when we first talked here. I have
turned you into the person I wanted. But you seem to
have forgotten the inscription on every link of the
chain around your neck. It says `Property of Skin'.
Both it and you belong to me, and I am not parting
with either. I thought we would meet here so that I
could tell you that the first part is over. But I
still have plans, and no I will not tell you what
those plans are. You know the rules." He stopped and
looked at Jo. "Have you ever fucked anyone or been
fucked?" The question took Jo by surprise but with
Skin, he could only answer truthfully. "No, neither.
There were some guys I would have liked to fuck but it
never happened. And no one ever asked to fuck me."
Skin smiled "As far as you fucking someone else is
concerned, you can't. The rings along your shaft are
there to make that impossible. And I am not going to
ask to fuck you either." The disappointment showed
immediately on Jo's face. Skin continued "I don't have
to ask. Your arse and every other bit of you belongs
to me. I intend to fuck you tonight. You know I have
big cock and you have a tight arse, so it will be very
painful. I am glad that I will be the first and the
only one to fuck you and I am glad that it will cause
you great pain. I like hurting you. I intend to fuck
you very often, but the first one will be the most
painful and you will always remember it."
They finished their beers and went home in silence.
Rather than going upstairs, Skin made Jo strip naked
in the entrance hall. He then put a leather hood over
his head that left him blind. He led him down some
stairs. Jo did not hesitate or stumble even though he
had never been into the cellar. Indeed he had not
really known that it was there. He trusted Skin to
look after him. He knew he was going through a
doorway. And there Skin left him. Although his hands
were free he knew that he could not remove the hood.
Skin returned a few minutes later. He stood behind him
and removed the hood. They were in a room with black
walls. In front there was a leather covered bench with
leather covered leg stirrups similar to the ones used
to examine women. Skin pushed him forward and Jo
realised that he should get on the bench. He turned
round. Skin was naked as well except that he was
wearing a pair of engineer boots. They had thick soles
and big heels. He could see the straps and buckles
over the instep and he imagined he could see the metal
toe-caps. They were just like the boots he had seen in
the corridor so long ago. But they were somehow
different. These did not stop at the calf or at the
knee. Rather they encased his legs completely up to
the crotch. He could see the two straps and buckles at
the top of each boot. And it was from a boot that a
snake climbed across his belly and along his dick.
Skin strapped Jo down by his arms and legs, although
both knew that Jo would not resist. Skin's cock was
truly solid and the snake seemed to be throbbing. He
applied some greasy lubricant to it. Jo could see a
drip of it on the ring. He put some lubricant on Jo's
arse but did not push his fingers up inside. The snake
moved towards him and then he felt it at the opening.
Skin said quietly "Do not resist and do not cry out."
Jo had no intention of resisting -- he had waited too
long for this. Though his body told him that the pain
was great as Skin entered him, his mind told him that
it was ecstasy. Skin applied a relentless pressure
until he was fully inside him. Jo could now feel the
leather boots against his arse. Slowly at first and
then with more power and speed Skin fucked Jo. With
each thrust the boots slapped against his cheeks.
Several times Jo thought that Skin was about to come.
But each time Skin stopped and held back. Jo felt a
surge rising in him as once again Skin moved in and
out and as the boots beat against him. He went faster
and faster and at the same point as Skin came within
Jo, Jo released his load on to the snake on his belly.
They looked into each other's eyes. Skin left his cock
in Jo. Jo realised how much he truly loved Skin.
Giving Skin pleasure was the ultimate joy in his life,
which was why the pain of that first fuck was ecstasy.
It was what Skin wanted. He would remember it forever.
When Skin's erection had subsided, he withdrew his
cock, but he did not untie Jo. Skin went to the corner
and came back with an iron rod that had an electric
flex attached to it. Jo could not make out what it
was. Skin said for the second time that evening "Do
not resist and do not cry out." The iron rod then
moved out of his vision. He felt it on his right
buttock. It must have been white hot. There was some
sizzling and an awful stench of burning flesh and then
it was gone. Jo did not resist or call out. Skin put
down the rod and poured cold water onto the burnt
area. Jo watched every step of the boots as Skin
walked across the room. He came back with a mirror. On
his right buttock Jo could see etched deeply into his
flesh the backward letters that said `Property of
Skin'. " Just so you don't forget" Skin said. "I
won't" Jo replied. That night, after Skin had
carefully washed the handcuffed Jo, they got into the
same bed together.
Although Jo was very sore, Skin fucked him every night
and sometimes again in the morning. Skin obviously
took pleasure in having Jo immobile, so he was always
carefully strapped down on the bench or handcuffed to
the bed before Skin forced an entry into him. Skin
knew what level of pain he wanted to inflict and as
the soreness lessened he became rougher and used less
and less lubricant. Jo relished every moment.
A week or so later Skin brought a large rubber butt
plug into the shower with him. Jo was handcuffed, as
Skin washed him. Skin did not ask Jo to bend over, as
Jo had expected. He stood in front of him, holding him
completely still with his eyes, put his arms around
Jo's body and slowly forced the large piece of rubber
up his crack. It felt good as his hole was stretched
as the plug got progressively thicker until his hole
closed around the thin neck. Jo gripped it with his
cheeks and liked the sensation. Jo knew that it would
stay there until Skin chose to remove it. Jo wondered
what it would feel like to sit on. When he tried to
sit down to breakfast, Skin would not let him. He was
told to stand to eat and to put his boots on. He would
only find out what it was like when he sat down at his
desk with all his colleagues around him. Jo had learnt
that Skin considered every little detail so as to get
the maximum out of every situation. Skin had chosen
the high heeled and very pointed black cowboy boots
for Jo. It was the first time he had been given them
to wear to work. As he walked he realised that the
height of the heels naturally made him clench his
buttocks more and so grip the plug even harder.
When they got to work Skin went with Jo to his office.
He announced "Look at the boots I have got him in
today." Everyone looked at Jo's feet, and Skin told Jo
to sit down and put his feet on the desk so that
everyone could see. Skin pushed him toward the seat
and Jo sat down rather heavily. Their eyes met as Jo
found out what it was like to sit on the plug. More
beautiful excruciating pleasure. Jo could see in
Skin's eyes that he was pleased. Jo rolled around in
the seat to maximise the sensations. He put his booted
feet on the desk and people admired what they saw. One
questioned, as someone always does when they see
cowboy boots "where are your spurs?" Skin said "I will
get him some" and Jo knew that he meant it and that
before long he would have to wear the boots with spurs
to the office. Skin was helping Jo fulfil another
booted ambition. He savoured the thought, and his
stomach tingled.
Jo did not wear a plug every day. Skin seemed to know
when the memory of the plug had faded enough so that
having one again became a new sensation. The plugs got
bigger and sometimes changed shape as Jo's hole became
more elastic.
The true nature of their relationship became public
knowledge a few days later. A new guy had joined the
firm who it quickly became obvious knew Skin. Just
before lunch Jo heard Skin arguing with the guy in the
corridor. He heard the guy shout "You never made me
have tattoos and you made me remove all those piercing
rings you made me have before you dumped me. I want
you to own me again." Skin answered at an equal volume
"I am fucking Jo now. Leave us both alone." Everyone
must have heard. Jo flushed as the rest of the office
looked at him, while pretending they weren't. For a
moment he felt like John again.
As often happens in such situations people around Jo
tried to pretend that they had heard nothing and
volubly asked each other questions about work or about
anything else to cover their embarrassment. But things
moved in a surprising direction. It became clear to Jo
that people were taking sides against the intruder. He
was trying to break up two people that were their
friends and they did not like it. After all it might
happen to them. Someone might try to steal their
partner. The new guy only lasted another couple of
days before the obvious hostility drove him out. Jo
knew everything would be all right when one of the
girls said "Did he really make you have piercings?" Jo
replied that he been made to have many of them and
highlighted the one in his right nipple through the
material of his shirt. She gave a shudder as she
lightly touched it. Then they both laughed and the
office joined in. Skin and Jo were officially a
couple. And from then on everyone treated them as
such. His public transformation was complete.
But in private Skin still had surprises. One day a
number of large cardboard boxes were delivered. Skin
let Jo open them. They contained a large variety of
rubber wear. Whole body suits and jeans and shirts and
shorts. In the very last he found two pairs of crotch
high rubber waders with thick rubber soles. The
familiar tingle spread out through his body. This was
to be a new adventure. Skin picked up one of the whole
body suits. He helped Jo get into it. The rubber was
thick and tight. Gloves and feet were attached to the
suit, so that when, eventually he was in it, he was
completely covered in thick rubber up to his neck. The
suit was moulded so that his penis was encased in a
rubber tube. The erection Jo got made the tube fit
very tightly. There was a similar tube at the back and
Skin forced the rubber up Jo's hole with the help of a
dildo, although Jo could feel very little when the
dildo was removed. Skin helped Jo pull on a pair of
rubber waders. Skin got out a rubber mask. It had
small holes for his eyes, nose and mouth, but little
of Jo could be seen behind the mask. Jo looked at the
rubber-encased man in the mirror and liked what he
saw. Skin got dressed in a similar costume although
his suit had no tube at the back. Skins hole was only
for shitting. But his dick was for fucking. He
lubricated his rubber-covered cock and forced his way
up Jo's rubber filled channel. They fucked long and
hard and the sensations were completely different from
any other fuck they had ever had.
When they were both exhausted and their erections had
diminished, Jo realised that he wanted badly to piss.
As often happened between the two of them, Skin read
his mind. "Lets both just piss." They held each
other's cocks so they could feel the fluid leaving the
other's body and settling in the suit. Jo asked "what
am I supposed to drink now?" Skin told him he could
have a drink in the morning. Skin was telling him that
they were to sleep as they were. From then on rubber
became another part of Jo's life. But as with
everything else, only when Skin wanted it.
In the shower the next morning as Skin washed Jo, who
naturally had his hands secured behind his back, said
"I suppose you wish the suits had been leather." For a
moment he wondered whether Skin was testing him. Jo
replied quite honestly "You chose rubber. I enjoyed
it." Skin smiled. "Yes I did choose rubber," he said.
The following weekend they went out. Jo did not know
where they were going even though frequently over the
last month or so Skin had told him their destination.
Told him. He never consulted him and Jo would not have
wanted him to. Skin frequently took Jo to shops to
look at boots and leather. Even though he liked to
hurt him, Skin also liked to give Jo pleasure. After
all it was only his to give. They arrived at a bike
dealership and it took some while before Jo realised
that Skin really did mean to buy a motorbike. Skin
liked a 1000cc Honda. But from the way he spoke to the
salesman it was clear he did not like the price. He
wanted something cheaper. But his eyes always went
back to the same bike as he looked at others. Jo knew
it was not his business but at the risk of getting one
of the looks from Skin that hurt like a whiplash he
said "When I moved in you said you were saving some of
the money." He had nearly said `my money', but avoided
that mistake. "Why not use that?" Skin said "I am
saving that for you." Jo looked puzzled and said "I
don't have anything." Jo was wearing a white T-shirt
and Skin grabbed his left nipple ring and twisted it
hard. Skin's looks could feel like a whiplash, but his
actions could be pure bliss.
They found the salesman and Skin told him of his
choice. He tried to get the price down but the
salesman did not want to budge far. Eventually Skin
said "Ok I will pay the full price on the label if you
will include all the gear to go with it for us both."
The deal was agreed and Skin and Jo went upstairs to
the clothing area. Jo held back. Skin would not need
his opinion. Skin quickly spotted a white leather suit
with red and black decorations. He handed one to Jo
and took an identical one for himself. They went into
a single cubicle to try them on. Once dressed in
leather, Skin pulled back the curtain straight away
even though Jo's excitement was very evident in the
snug-fitting suit. When the suits were picked from the
rack they looked like single garments. But the
trousers and jacket actually came apart. They headed
off to the boots. Skin chose white boots with
`Aplenstars' in red leather letters. They had buckles
from the instep to the knee. Once booted they put on
white full-face crash helmets with black tinted visors
and finished with some thick white gloves.
They took the gear home in bags. The bike would be
delivered that afternoon after a final cleaning and
inspection. They stripped and put on the leather suit,
boots and gloves over their naked bodies and Skin led
Jo into the cellar. Skin secured Jo to the wall with
arm and leg manacles. He could move a little, but not
much. Skin kissed Jo. Even when kissing Skin was very
much in control. His tongue explored Jo's mouth
roaming freely around his teeth and as far to the back
of his throat as his tongue would go. Skin loved
teasing the stud in Jo's tongue and would draw Jo's
tongue into his own mouth when he wanted to chew it
with his teeth. Skin pulled down the zip on Jo's
jacket and with his gloved fingers attacked Jo's
nipples. All the time they kissed. Skin unzipped Jo's
trousers and freed his cock and balls. One gloved hand
took hold of Jo's cock as the other held and squeezed
his balls. The rings along the shaft of Jo's cock came
alive as they only did when in Skin's charge. The feel
of Skin's hand and the motions he made on his cock
were now more familiar to Jo than his own. Only rarely
these days did Skin instruct Jo to relieve himself.
The last time had been over two weeks before when Skin
dressed only in a new pair of 30-hole black rangers
had instructed Jo to lie on the floor and jack off
while he explored his body with the new boots. After
Jo had ejaculated, Skin relieved himself by fucking
Jo.
Jo had never seen Skin jack off himself. Like his
piss, Skin's spunk always went inside Jo. Up his arse
or down his throat. This time, once Jo had come over
Skin's new white suit and boots, Skin started to
slowly massage his cock. Jo watched the snake writhe,
and he watched it shoot its venom over the jacket and
trousers Jo was wearing, and finally deposit small
droplets on the boots. They had both been christened.
From then on, all their important purchases were
christened by them both.
On the Monday, it was raining heavily and they went to
work as usual by train. This gave Jo the chance to
tell his colleagues that they had bought a bike. Jo
doubted that Skin ever felt the need to explain or
prepare the people he worked with about anything. But
he seemed to understand that Jo was not yet that free
and he helped make his public face as easy as he
could. The next day they arrived by bike in their
white leather suits. The journey had felt wonderful as
Jo pressed himself against Skin, massaging his cock
against his back. Skin, of course, had driven the
bike. Skin walked with Jo to his office. In a loud
voice his parting words were "And tomorrow don't
forget to put the change of clothes in the pannier."
In truth Skin had decided not to take a change and
both walked around that day in matching leather
trousers and boots. They both only had on T-shirts. It
was the first time that Jo's tattooed arm had been
quite so visible, even though he had shown his
colleagues the work as it progressed. At one point Jo
caught sight of himself in a long mirror. He was quite
taken aback with the beauty of the reflection until he
realised it was him. As he stood at the coffee point
that morning, one of his colleagues said to him "God I
wish I was gay. Life would then be so easy." Jo did
not tell him that people like Skin found life easy.
For everyone else it was tough.
As well as the white suits, they also wore black
leather to work on the bike. At first Jo had changed
on arrival out of the black leather and into jeans.
They could not forget a change of clothes every day.
But comments from the manager made it clear that that
was not necessary. Black leather jeans were quite
acceptable -- for people like Skin and Jo at least. So
they just kept a pair of boots at the office for the
black leather days. Skin selected the high heeled
cowboy boots and the sharp pointed elastic sided boots
he had bought to celebrate Jo's birthday. Jo had never
thought of them as `his'. They swapped boots
regularly. Skin would walk into his office in his
socks carrying the pair of boots he had last worn. He
would give them to Jo. As Jo never knew when this
would happen, he would often already have changed out
of the bike boots. Skin would then take the boot in
his crotch as he pulled off Jo's foot and then put it
on his own. Jo enjoyed the public demonstration of
their relationship and of Skin's power over him.
Some weeks later Skin showed Jo a piercing ring. It
was very thick and much thicker than the ones Jo had
all over his body. Skin said "this is the thickness I
want you to have. But I want to do it in several
steps. Jo was stripped and taken down to the cellar
and tied to a bench. It was his favourite position.
Immobile. A piece of property. With a pair of pliers
Skin managed to remove the ring from Jo's right
nipple. It was difficult to do as the ball had been
stuck in, and he made Jo bleed. Skin got a new thicker
and slightly bigger ring, which he forced through the
bleeding wound. Jo knew that a professional piercer
would have used a rod or something to slowly expand
the hole. But that would not have caused so much pain
or made the wound so sore. Jo was glad that Skin was
not a professional piercer. When the ring was inserted
and its retaining ball stuck in, Jo expected Skin to
do the other nipple. Skin said "Oh no, only one at a
time. This will be a long slow process moving you up
one ring and one gauge at a time. And when that is
done we will start again with a bigger gauge. It could
take years." Skin undid Jo's legs and placed them over
his shoulders. He was going to fuck him. When he had
pushed home his cock, which Jo regretted was now all
too easy, he started playing roughly with the new
ring. Jo had forgotten how good the torture of a new
wound felt. He climaxed long before Skin, who seemed
to be holding back. But until he did shoot it was
clear that Skin was going to continue to pull and
twist the nipple. As Skin had often said, he liked
hurting Jo. And Jo wanted, with every fibre of his
being, to make Skin happy. Nothing else mattered to
him.